


The Change of Heart

by xantissa



Series: The Change Series [3]
Category: Andromeda
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And although I know I should hate you, I can’t! It only makes me hate myself more" 2005</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Change of Heart

“Damn machine!” Rhade slammed his fist into the distributor, annoyed that the ship refused to serve him alcohol, pouring vinegar in the glass instead.

“The level of alcohol in your blood is already at a level that would send an unmodified human into coma. I will not let you drink more while on this ship,” answered the hologram and Rhade growled at her, even though it was nice to see her fully operational after the months of blinks and flashes of her damaged personality.

“Shut up. I need a drink.”

“You are already drunk,” answered the ship’s AI.

“Obviously not enough.” Murmured Rhade and then turned away from the distributor, knowing that only Dylan could force Andromeda to serve him alcohol, and Dylan was now in Medbay, fighting for his life.

Rhade closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on the cool, steel wall. He was still shirtless, Dylan’s blood smeared over his chest and stomach, drying on his hands… the smell of it was driving him insane, but still he didn’t shower, didn’t wash it away. There were two reasons for that. One, that it served as a reminder of what happened and second was because Andromeda allowed him only into few chosen places on the ship, keeping everything else strictly off limits.

“Why aren’t you letting me into my quarters?” Rhade asked, tiredly.

The hologram stayed silent for a moment, and then answered calmly.

“I have run an analysis on the blood on both you and Dylan on your arrival.”

“And?”

“The blood on your boneblades belongs to him. His wounds also correspond with my estimation, that it was you, Telemachus Rhade, that stabbed him. Therefore, you are restricted to this area of the ship, until I am given more evidence.”

Rhade sighed and turned around to lean on the wall and then slid slowly to the ground, resting his elbows on his bent knees and hiding his face in his hands.

“So, why didn’t you lock me up? If I attacked your Captain…”

“I didn’t say that you purposefully attacked him.”

Rhade looked up at the strange phrase.

“What?”

The holo looked uncomfortable for a moment.

“It isn’t the first time Dylan has been poisoned with this kind of poison. I will wait till he wakes up.”

Rhade blinked at the news. The poison was unique in his family, the recipe extremely exotic. There was no way someone could have duplicated it.

“You are awfully sure he will survive,” stated the Nietzschean, observing the hologram carefully.

“As I said, it isn’t the first time it’s happened. His body has some immunity to the poison, and I have synthesized the antidote long ago,” with that she blinked out, leaving a shocked Rhade alone.

Suddenly, it all snapped into place. That devious sonofabitch planned it!

 

*          *          *

 

            Dylan opened his eyes to the low key lighting in Medbay on Andromeda.  He hurt all over, his skin burning, feeling overstretched and tender, his head felt swollen and his tongue seemed like it was a partly inflated balloon.

A sound attracted his attention and he shifted painfully, not really hiding the groan that left his throat at the soreness of his body.

“You are a devious, manipulative, fucking insane sonofabitch. I ought to kill you for the stunt you pulled.” Stated Rhade, incredibly calmly. He was sitting, cross-legged, on the nearest medbed. He was shirtless and his chest was smeared with blood that was obviously only cleaned up with a towel, just to remove the excess. It was disturbing how much there was.

Rhade didn’t move but was aware of his train of thought obviously because he said:

“Rommie revoked my security pass. I can only be here, under her observation, in mess deck and in the corridor between those two places.”

Dylan closed his eyes, trying to gather his strength. He felt as weak as a new born kitten right now.

“It was an absolutely stupid, unreasonable, simply insane thing to do. Just what did you try to prove there, Dylan? Even if you knew I kept the blades poisoned, you couldn’t possibly know if it was the same poison Gaheris Rhade used. If I changed the poison, you would have been dead.”

Rhade was looking at him, trying to see something in Dylan, and it felt strange to have the Nietzschean watch him so closely with amber eyes intent, focused, without the usual drunken haze to them.

“I took a gamble.” Talking hurt, his throat was so dry, but he managed to croak those few words.

Slowly, with grace that few ever possessed, Rhade unfolded himself from the position and rose. Dylan watched him and had a sudden flashback to Tyr. The mercenary was the one who Dylan saw in this mediating position more often. Seeing Rhade like that was strange, because it was not like him to be still and quiet like that.

The Nietzschean poured a glass of water and then brought it to Dylan. He was strangely quiet as he lifted the Captain’s head and waited patiently till Dylan drank the water.

“Why do you insist on messing with my life? If I want to drink myself into a stupor, it’s my choice. Why are you so intent on saving me?” The question was asked in a quiet, level, unreadable voice. Only now did Dylan realize just how much the alcohol did loosen Rhade’s inhibition, causing him to show his pain and emotions on the outside. Now, mostly sober, he was as unreadable as a rock.

“I needed to prove to you that you still cared Rhade. That it all still matters to you,” whispered Dylan softly.

“Why?” Asked Rhade as he moved away again, putting the glass back at the small table and then leaning on the wall.

“I think you know why,” answered Dylan, slowly pulling himself into a sitting position.

Rhade dropped his gaze to his boneblades, one set of them still smeared in blood and seemed to inspect it.

“Because you want me?” The Nietzschean finally answered, his voice carefully bland.

Dylan closed his eyes and laughed a small, bitter laugh.

“God, you still don’t understand it, do you? All your superior genes, all of those enhanced senses, and you still don’t know.”

“Don’t deny it. I can smell it, could always smell it on you. After all, you were also attracted to Tyr Anasazi. Hell, your whole crew was attracted to him. It didn’t mean anything though.”

Dylan gave up on trying to pull himself into a vertical position. He was still too weak.

“You are wrong, Rhade.”

“My senses aren’t lying. You are usually aroused in my presence, have been from the start,” opposed the Nietzschean.

Dylan turned his head so that he could look at the ragged man standing just a few feet away from him, yet so totally out of reach.

“Your senses may be telling you the truth. But you see only what you want to see. The difference between sending and receiving a message, I suppose.”

Rhade was silent, so Dylan continued, the exhaustion and pain, making him want to say things he knew he would regret later.

“I am in love with you, Telemachus Rhade. That makes the difference.”

The total stillness that enveloped the room would have been funny if it wasn’t so painful. Dylan was weak and tired, and before he noticed what was going on, he slipped into a heavy sleep.

 

*          *          *

 

            When he woke up again, the silhouette beside his bed wasn’t Rhade. But it was something he expected.

“Hi Rommie,” He said slowly, his tongue still felt like a leftover party balloon in his mouth.

“You are not surprised to see me here,” stated the ship’s avatar.

Dylan smiled at her as best as he could under the circumstances.

“I knew you wouldn’t leave me alone, Rommie.”

She looked at him with a frown. He didn’t answer her question but she decided not to press. After all she did hear the conversation that took place in the Medbay before.

“Is…” Started Dylan, but Rommie interrupted him instantly:

“Rhade is still on board. Since you didn’t ask for privacy mode, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. After that, I reestablished his security pass. He is now in his quarters. Shall I call him back here?”

“No. He needs time to think.”

Rommie nodded and then made as if to walk away then stopped herself and turned back to Dylan. She was obviously agitated, unhappy about something.

“Dylan... I am not one hundred percent sure what happened planetside between you and Rhade, but... I would appreciate if you wouldn’t risk your life like that. I have just been back for a few days and... I wouldn’t want to be alone again. Before, it was... the most horrible thing I have ever experienced,” she said referring to all the time she spent in Harper’s workshop, lost in an insanity of pain, loneliness and hate.

Dylan reached his hand out, catching hers and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sorry I scared you, but I didn’t plan it.”

“How? Rhade could have changed the poison then you would have died,” argued Rommie.

“I knew I would survive.”

“Why? How can you be so sure? Most humans would be dead even from that small amount of poison…”

“And that’s the case Rommie,” interrupted her Dylan.

She frowned at him again but patiently waited for his explanation.

“I am only half human. The poison would have made me sick, but not killed me,” Dylan explained softly, completely missing the shocked look on Andromeda’s face as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I would like to go to my quarters and finish recuperating there.”

Still slightly stunned, Rommie nodded, not seeing any reason to object.

 

*          *          *

 

            With a deep sigh, Dylan settled against the pillows in his own bed, and nodded at the positively hovering Rommie that he was good.

“I’ll be fine, Rommie. You can scan me all you want if you like, but I am only exhausted. Nothing that a few hours of good sleep wouldn’t help. Go, I’ll be fine.”

“If you are sure,” she started towards the door, but when it slid open, she paused and looked back at Dylan, with that expression in her eyes that told Dylan clearly that she wanted to say something, but was hesitating.

“You don’t approve, doyou Andromeda?”

She opened her mouth to avoid answering, but then changed her mind.

“No, I don’t. My previous experience, your previous experience, shows that Nietzscheans can not be trusted in a non-reproductive relationship. Their only loyalty is to their own family, their Matriarch and their offspring. Anything else they will betray for their own gain. Dylan. You have been betrayed by every single Nietzschean you ever met. Gaheris Rhade, your First Officer, Tyr Anasazi, your former Weapons Officer, Elisabeth Mossadim and it’s only a beginning. I am not mentioning all the others, randomly met Nietzscheans that tried to kill you or use you just because you were Human. What makes you believe that Telemachus Rhade would be different? Why risk for him?”

Dylan looked away for a moment, his gaze setting on the old picture of him and Sarah.

“What made you want to take the risk for Gabriel?” He asked quietly.

Rommie’s face twisted into a painful, sad smile.

“Because I could not, not do it.”

“You have your answer then. It’s a chance I can’t turn away from.”

 

*          *          *

 

            When Dylan woke up again, he immediately knew someone was in the room with him.

“Lights thirty percent,” He demanded from the ship.

As the soft glow filled the room, Dylan saw Rhade sitting on one of the soft armchairs, with his legs on the coffee table.

He looked good like that. His well defined chest filled the sleeveless, black tee shirt very nicely, stretching the soft cloth over the prominent pecks and flat, dashboard stomach. A faint shadow where the muscles dipped, curling under the waistband of his black uniform pants. It’s been months for Dylan, and over a year for Rhade, since Dylan last saw him in anything even close to the clothes he used to wear before Seefra happened.

It looked good on him, highlighting the lean muscles and toned body. His wet hair curled over the tanned, strong neck, wild strands standing out. Obviously, Rhade didn’t bother with them other than toweling them dry. His facial hair was trimmed on the other hand, short to the point of being a stubble rather than a beard. His eyes, hidden in the many shadows of the room, were watching Dylan.

“Rhade,” this time Dylan managed to pull himself into a sitting position; the two hour nap, according to his chronometer, really helped him restore his strength.

“Tell me about Gaheris Rhade,” came the quiet demand from Rhade, and this time Dylan was sure that he wasn’t asking if his First Officer betrayed the Commonwealth or not.

“Why do you ask?”

Rhade snorted derisively at him

“Because after what Andromeda said about you being poisoned by this particular kind of poison before, it wasn’t difficult to figure it out that you and him were lovers.”

“It was a long time ago, Telemachus. It doesn’t matter anymore,” it surprised Dylan how hard it was to even think about talking about his former lover, the most trusted friend and traitor.

Rhade got up in one angry, sudden movement.

“It does, when I’m wearing his face.”

Dylan looked at him, long and hard, seeing longish, unruly hair, relaxed, arrogant pose, black soft sleeves tee stretched tight over his chest making him want to touch it, trace all of the muscles with his fingertips and for the first time, he realized that he stopped seeing Gaheris Rhade each time he looked at Telemachus quite some time ago.

“Why do you want to know?” He asked gently and took a deep breath before getting out of the bed. He felt dizzy for a moment, but then caught his balance and world went back to its rightful, upright place.

“Did you love him? Or was it just a tryst, a stress relief?”

Dylan closed his eyes for a moment, reaching out to steady himself on the wall, feeling the cool metal under his fingers reminding him of sensation, feelings long past. Memory, like an electric shock cursed through him.

_//Strong, hot fingers on his throat._

_Warm breath just millimeters from his lips, warmth of a strong body pressing at his, all muscle and sinew and the feeling of the hard, unyielding and oh so dangerous boneblades on the side of his face, trapping him immobile against the gym’s wall._

_“Rhade.. I’m your commanding officer. It’s wrong…”_

_A hot, wet tip of tongue tracing a wicked line of fire on the side of his mouth, just shy of reaching his lips. A quiet, sensual chuckle so close to his skin, he could almost feel the vibration._

_“Shh Dylan. I found that you…” another wicked lick on his temple this time, “my commanding officer, are in a severe need of a little of reality adjustment”_

_Dylan couldn’t help but laugh at the statement, even if his own laughter was a bit breathless, the closeness of the other body wrecking havoc with his thought process._

_“Are you trying to make a pessimist out of me, Mr. Rhade?”_

_Another chuckle, this time so close to his lips, he could almost taste the other man._

_“No. I just want to... corrupt you a little.” The amber eyes shone at him with almost unholy light. Dylan never knew just how much of what Rhade said was truth, and how much a joke. “What will you do? Will you let me… corrupt you a little?” The words, like a honey offering, were murmured into his lips. That was enough, the need to act, to do something to quench that fire in his blood pushed Dylan into action, dislodging Rhade’s hold on him and forcing their lips together at last.//_

“Gaheris Rhade was the most fascinating man I ever knew. He was calm and collected on the outside, extremely dangerous, cold hearted and vicious fighter in combat situations. He was also a merciless killer. He never felt any remorse, it was an emotion he never even considered. I despised that in him, but also admired how good he felt in his own skin. No doubts, no dilemmas. No regrets. I envied him in that aspect. He was also very attractive and perfectly aware of that fact. So, one day, when he ambushed me and then stated that I was in a serous need of... corrupting... I agreed.” Dylan had his eyes still closed, immersed in memories. “I loved him. Probably hadn't realized it, but the feeling started that day in Admiral Stark’s office when I met him for the first time. He was so intense, so absolutely captivating that before I realized it, three years had passed by and we were still lovers, still laughing together and making love whenever possible. It never bothered me that he had wives and children, like it never bothered him that I met Sarah and fell in love with her. But it never crossed my mind that we would break it off. He could understand me like no one before him. His cold pessimism and calculating mind were things that kept me grounded in those first years, when  having the responsibility for over four thousand people onboard of Andromeda was getting too much for me; he understood the adrenaline in my system after a particularly fierce fight… at that time I thought that the feeling between us was mutual, that we shared a special bond. But it wasn’t easy with him. He always challenged me, made each encounter between us about fighting, about trying to teach me something I didn’t truly understood. Till it was too late for both of us.”

Dylan turned around to look at Telemachus. The Nietzscheans eyes were focused on him, but his expression hidden behind the mask of curious amusement he wore lately.

“And what was it? That lesson that you failed to learn?”

Dylan smiled bitterly and opened a cupboard pouring them two drinks. His throat felt sore and tight, and he needed a drink if he was to talk more. Without a word he took the drinks to Rhade and handed him the glass of amber liquid. The man took it, his eyes never leaving Dylan’s face and drank it in one gulp. Dylan watched his throat muscles work as he swallowed and followed his lead, feeling conflicting emotions inside himself. Bitterness and desire. Anger and hurt and hope…

“For all the years we were lovers, he tried to tell me, show me that he could not be trusted. That he betrayed me with every word, every fucking touch, every damned night we spent together. Because Telemachus Rhade, your ancestor, betrayed me even before he met me.”

Rhade cocked his head to the side, barely hiding his surprise at the level of anger and barely tempered hate that still swirled somewhere under the surface.

“Do you still hate him?” Asked the Nietzschean, surprisingly softly.

“No. Yes. Damn it, I loved him for years, Telemachus. And it’s not something you can forget overnight. But he hurt me, more than I thought possible. There is also the fact that he did try to tell me, in his own way, that he would betray me and that he felt something for me. When I held him in my arms, dying from a wound I delivered to him, he said he was proud of me, and I should be too. He never understood that I could never be proud of killing anyone, especially someone as close to me as he was. For all his ability to foresee my movements, he never really understood me.”

Feeling more shaken than he expected, Dylan made his way to the bathroom. He still felt tired and weak, but walking was no problem, thanks to the medical nanobots Andromeda injected into him as soon as Rhade brought him on the ship.

He splashed cold, clean water on his face, needing the time to compose himself. Only when the flow of water stopped did he realize he wasn’t alone in the room. He raised his head, and wasn’t terribly surprised to see Rhade leaning on the doorframe and watching him. What surprised Dylan was the strangely intense expression on the man’s face.

“A small crystal figurine of a kitten with a drop of Lettarian Liquid inside. If jiggled, it would cast dozens of beautiful colors all over the room.”

Very slowly, with his mind whirling Dylan straightened and turned around to face the Nietzschean.

“Rhade?” Asked Dylan, not really sure of what exactly he was asking.

Rhade looked somewhere over his shoulder, his eyes shadowed and far, far away.

“It was tiny, it was fragile and a really useless thing, but he still liked it. I remember that.”

Dylan felt his knees give under him and grabbed the sink in order to stay upward. It was absolutely impossible.

“No one knew about the figurine. I gave it to Gaheris just a few months before… the Nietzscheans attacked. He laughed at the silliness of this gift. But I saw he was fascinated with it when he first saw the figurine. When he accepted it, I asked why he did it if he thought the gift was so stupid. He said that the spectrum of colors cast by the Lettarian Liquid in the crystal mesmerized him, that with his Nietzschean sight he could distinguish twice as many colors as me.” Dylan took a deep breath. “There is no possible way you can know it.”

Rhade pushed back from the doorframe and returned to the living room, flopping down on the couch in a vain attempt to look unruffled.

“There is one way,” the Nietzschean said.

Dylan could only stare at him. And then it hit him, just like that. He was so stupid before. How could he not see it? The way Telemachus Rhade looked, the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he was the perfect soldier under his command, loyal, obedient even if he made his opinions widely known. Just like Gaheris Rhade, his ancestor.

“Genetic memory,” Dylan whispered, crushed by the sheer greatness of that fact.

Rhade only smiled bitterly and fingered the now empty glass.

“They tried to breed genetic memory in our line, but in all three hundred years they failed. Don’t look at me like that, Dylan. I didn’t lie to you when we met. It’s not like I know every thought and every deed Gaheris Rhade made. It’s just that sometimes I keep getting flashes, barely images out of context, without any real meaning behind them. Not for me anyway. And ever since I first met you on Terazed, I kept remembering that damn figurine. I dreamed of it for weeks before I realized it must have been a memory of Gaheris.”

“How much do you remember of him?” Dylan was shocked at how hoarse his voice seemed.

“Not much. Just a few flashes. Probably those connected to the most intense emotions.” Rhade lowered his eyes to the empty glass and turned it in his hands, obviously wishing it wasn’t empty. Without saying a word, still shocked to the very core of his being, Dylan went to the cupboard and took the bottle out again, returning with it, to Rhade and pouring them both generous amounts of brandy.

Rhade gave him a twisted, bitter smile and drank the alcohol in one swallow.

“When I first met you on Terazed and asked about Raheris… I didn’t lie. I really didn’t know whose version was true. The one told by my family or the one told by other Nietzscheans. The flashes of memory I had... they did nothing to clear the picture. They confused me even more.”

“Why?” Asked Dylan.

“Because the clearest images, the most intense ones... were always about you. His passion for you, his admiration of you, were so clear to me. As well as the sadness I could never understand. Until I learned that he betrayed you.”

Dylan stayed quiet, sensing that Rhade tried tell him something.

“Did you know he was sending samples of his genetic code regularly to his family?” Asked Rhade

Dylan nodded.

“Yes. The gene banks…”

“Uhm...” Rhade poured himself another glass and Dylan fought the urge to stop him. He could see by the slightly slowed reactions that Rhade was getting drunk again. “The last sample was sent just a week before Hephastos. He was probably making sure, even if he thought he would win. That sample was used to create an embryo that was then placed in my grand, grand, grand, grandmother.”

Dylan poured the last of the alcohol into his own glass and picked it up, staring in the amber liquid as if it held all the answers.

“Why are you telling me this?” Asked Dylan softly, unsure of the other man’s motives. 

There was silence between them. Rhade moved, almost restlessly, on the couch, his muscles flexing under the tight, sleeveless tee shirt.

“Because I never told it to anyone else?” The words were quiet, whispered without looking at Dylan and he understood them for what they were.

An offering.

Suddenly, the anger came back to Rhade and he stood up in one abrupt movement.

“You all look at me with pity for drinking, in disgust for spending my time with whores, and with despise at my working for various scumbags… but what else do I have to do, Dylan? I was here for nine months, with nothing more than the clothes on my back. I had to survive!” Rhade yelled, throwing the glass he still held in his hand at the wall. They both watched it shatter into a million little pieces. “And then came you, with your high ideals and morals, and you had the fucking nerve to look down on me for what I became! You of all people!”

The emotions on Rhade’s face were so raw, so intense, so painful that Dylan was left speechless. He instinctively knew there was something more to this outburst than his reaction to Rhade’s drinking.

The Nietzschean’s chest heaved and his nostrils flared as he clamped his jaw shut, not wanting to betray more.

“You, Becka… Harper, you all accused me of making you end up here, on this God forsaken planet. But it’s more in your case, isn’t it? It’s much, much more.”

Rhade snarled and turned sharply pacing a few steps than came back leaning over Dylan, fisting his hand in his shirt and pulling him up, his drunken state not inhibiting his strength or reflexes a bit.

“Yes… there is more. And although I know I should hate you, I can’t! It only makes me hate myself more.”

“Why?”

Rhade smiled at him, but it was a painful, bitter smile.

“You know that my family is dead?” The question was asked almost casually, but the dangerous glint in Rhade’s eyes betrayed his feverish pain.

“Yes,” Dylan nodded solemnly, “they died in an explosion. An accident…”

He was interrupted by harsh laughter coming from the Nietzschean. It was so raw it sounded more like a sob.

“It was no accident. They died because I joined you. They died because of you, Dylan Hunt. And while they were burning alive I was fucking entertaining fantasies about you, the courtesy of genetic memory passed down to me by a fucking traitor – Gaheris Rhade. And how more twisted could it get, huh Dylan? I joined you in your quest, let them die. My wife and kids.” He looked around with a bitter twist of his lips, “And look what it got me. Commonwealth falling apart from the inside, broken down, a pitiful excuse for a starship and a year of life on this dump yard of a planet. It was all for nothing. Their deaths were for nothing. And tell me, how can I NOT hate myself, huh?”

Rhade pushed him back, making him stumble and hit the wall painfully hard. Still, he was too stunned to even utter a whimper. He never suspected that Rhade’s family was murdered and that he blamed himself. If there was one sacred thing for Nietzscheans, it was their children.

The upset man put his hand in his hair and pulled sharply, wincing in pain as he tried to regain control of himself.

“Fuck it all, I need a drink.”

With those words, Rhade was out of the door, heading for the slipfighter and the only thing that Dylan could do was stare blindly at the door, remembering the single tear that escaped his Nietzschean friend before he left.

 

*  *  *

 

He could feel the other man’s eyes on the still visible marks on his neck, where the boneblades had torn through the vulnerable neck not so long ago.

 

“Why?” Asked Rhade without looking at him, his eyes fixed purposefully on the empty dresser in front of him.

 

Dylan turned his head, letting his eyes find the incredibly strong and beautiful figure of the warrior. He looked at Rhade for a long time, hearing all the things the Nietzschean didn’t say.

 

“Because sometimes, to get rid of your own pain, you have to hurt yourself.” He said slowly, carefully, not reacting to Rhade’s derisive snort. “And sometimes to ease your own pain, you have to hurt someone else.”

 

 

End


End file.
